


Sometimes Phil Coulson Hates His Job

by AlexKingOfTheDamned, swimsalot



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Asphyxiation, Light Masochism, M/M, Mirror Sex, PWP, Rough Sex, sub/dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimsalot/pseuds/swimsalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson fucks Tony Stark in a public bathroom nice and rough. There's not much more to it than that. Light masochism and gentle beating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Phil Coulson Hates His Job

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes Phil hates his job, And sometimes it's not so bad.

Sometimes Phil Coulson hates his job. Usually it's not that bad. He gets to order around the people who save the world at least once a month. Sometimes he even gets to grab his gun and go out with them. Every mission means mountains of paperwork and at least one of them in medical but he doesn't mind. They're his team and if they need him to sit with them in their hospital room or fill out hundreds of acquisition request forms he'll do it. It's nice to know they need him. That isn't the part that bothers him.  
  
No, what bothers him is Tony Stark. Or more specifically, a very drunk Tony Stark at an official SHIELD function, hitting on everything that moves. And a few things that don't.  
  
Ordinarily he would ignore Stark. But these are his coworkers and he's the Avenger's handler. He's responsible for how they behave on base. With four out of six that isn't a problem. Natasha likes to blend in, rather than draw attention to herself, Steve is as perfectly behaved as any human can possibly be, Thor is at least charming and Banner just stands in the corner staring at whatever drink Tony just thrust into his hand. His only problems are Clint and Tony and usually if he can keep them apart the damage is manageable.  
  
But Barton is currently laid up in medical with four broken ribs and Stark seems to have decided he needs to make enough trouble for the two of them.   
  
Alright maybe it's not just Stark that's bothering him. Phil's been tense all week ever since his boyfriend - he did date on occasion - had moved out to Portland and trying to maintain any kind of relationship was hard enough for a SHIELD agent. Long distance just wasn't even worth trying. So they had broken up and gone their separate ways. Then comes Stark, drunk off his ass and still sexier than almost every man in the room. And he knows it, which only makes it worse.    
  
He takes another sip of his scotch and sets it down on the bar. Enough is enough. Stark had just gotten himself slapped for the third time and Phil can't just sit by and seethe any more. People are starting to talk.   
  
He storms over to Tony and squeezes his shoulder hard enough to hurt.  
  
"That's enough Stark. You're embarrassing yourself and me."

 

Tony seems to take a moment to register what's happening and who's holding him, but as soon as he finds his bearings he gives Phil a winning grin. "Why agent, I didn't know you could _squeeze_ that hard," he says, and his words aren't even that slurred. His stare is burning as he looks Phil up and down like he's tallying points. He's an attractive man, that's for sure, mature and sturdy. Tony can't help but feel like a child next to him, despite the fact that they're only a few years apart. He wouldn't mind having Phil as a _daddy._

 

Tony hisses when Phil grabs him a little tighter. "Come on, agent, you invited me to this place and it's got an open bar, what did you expect of me? If you want me on my best behavior you've got to keep alcohol out of it." he presses his shoulder a little tighter into Phil's hold when his stern expression didn't even waver. "I'm curious, exactly how far up your butt is that stick lodged? And does it make walking uncomfortable?"

 

"You'll never know." Phil says, keeping his voice an even monotone. He knows it drives Tony crazy when deadpans like that. He'll probably only take it as a challenge but at least it'll get on his nerves.He steers Tony away from the group he was harassing and towards the exit. "You've been here an hour. Do you really need that much alcohol to survive or do you just enjoy making my life more difficult?"

 

"Actually, I do enjoy it," Tony's still grinning and they're in the hall now, and his steps stagger just a little bit. "If God didn't want me to drink he wouldn't make alcohol so delicious. Don't you ever drink, agent? You can't tell me you don't love the _burn_ of it when you swallow." his eyes are still ablaze as he looks at Phil. He _loves_  poking and prodding at the man, pushing and pushing to see how far he can go before he breaks. He hasn't broken the man yet, but he thinks he's getting close. One straight month of wreaking legal havoc and he can see Phil's composure is slipping. 

 

"I'm  _your_ boss. I have to drink or I'd shoot you. I just don't get shit faced in public." Phil says, stopping himself from clenching his teeth in anger. He pushes Stark through the men's bathroom door and starts running the cold water in one of the sinks. "You need to sober up. Now. Or I'm going back to the office and getting Darcy's taser."

 

"You know I could put together a stick-extraction team," Tony suggested, leaning against the sink and dipping his fingers in the icy stream before flicking it in Phil's face. "No man should have to walk around with a branch up their butt." 

 

Tony felt a shiver ripple through him when Phil's eyes flashed with anger. It was there and gone, just for a moment. Tony's so close to getting him to crack. And when he does, it will be glorious. Tony has a bit of a masochistic complex, and he's not ashamed to admit that the thought of being punched in the mouth by agent Coulson gets a fire brewing in his belly. The thought of being wrestled to the ground, pinned down, _forced_. And Coulson's just the man to do it. Clint would enjoy it too much, and Tony needs that sense of domination. Steve's way too good a guy to hold him down by force, and Bruce or Thor would _kill_  him if he tried. And try as he might, the thought of getting beaten around by a woman just doesn't appeal, so Natasha's out of the question. 

 

No, he needs a man. A strong, serious man with just enough control to beat him absolutely fucking senseless and then leave him bleeding and writhing and coming on the floor. Being a tycoon, Tony is used to always having control over everything, so getting it ripped out of his hands is the most exciting thing he can think of. He needs Coulson to throw him against a wall, break his nose, lose his composure, make Tony black out. He _needs_ it. 

 

Coulson takes a moment to steady himself. He's a member of SHIELD, trained to stay calm in the most dire situations and not to crack even after months of torture. So why the hell is he getting so worked up? It's just Stark. He's not even being all that creative with his taunts. Phil hears more entertaining insults walking to the break room for coffee.  
  
Tony flicks water at him again and before he even finishes laughing Phil's got the back of shirt in his hands and pushes him down over the edge of the sink so the cold water is running over his hair.

 

The billionaire splutters and his hands slip on the edge of the sink. Phil's hand moves to the back of his head and it is superb, but in his drunken state Tony can't help but feel like he's being water-boarded. He pushes at the edge of the sink, and hits his head on the water spout on the way up so hard that he's seeing stars. He groans and falls back against Phil's body, soaking water into his jacket and hearing him grunt. 

 

"Fuckin' hell that wasn't very nice," Tony mutters, and Phil's hand is still hard over the nape of his neck, pulling at the little hairs there and keeping him steady. He's already buzzing with energy, and he knows it's not long before Phil will be beating his head in. Tony might put up a little bit of a fight, but he'll enjoy it too much to stop it. He just needs a little bit more of a push. "You really are a tight ass if you think a little cold water's gonna get the booze out of my system. What the hell do you drink that _this_  works on, cool-aid?" 

 

"Scotch, and it's supposed to shock you back to your senses." Phil replies and maybe it comes out as a little bit of a growl. If it does no one will ever know but the two of them and Tony is too drunk to remember. "Normally I'd shove you into a cold shower but I don't have one of those lying around. So it's this or I knock you out."

 

A shiver visibly raced through Tony's body and he leaned a little more heavily against Phil's body. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that they're making eye contact through the mirror, but Tony's definitely tenting in his trousers. Water is spilling down his face, down his shirt, and its sticking to his heaving chest. 

 

"I don't think you could," Tony challenged, feeling unsteady with the sensations roaring through his body. "I don't think you're strong enough to knock me out, bucko." 

 

Phil rolls his eyes. Then his leg sweeps forward and Tony starts to fall. His body twists in Phil's grasp and suddenly he's got him by the throat, rather than the nape of his neck. He uses the momentum from Tony's fall to push him back against the sink, bending him backwards at an almost sixty degree angle. He presses against him, using his own body and the sink to keep Tony from falling any further.  
  
"Still think so?" he asks, trying his hardest to ignore the erection pressing against his thigh and his body's response to it.

 

Tony's moan is stunted by the hand on his throat, and his vision is spinning from where his head collided with the mirror, but his body is on fire and his hips roll up against Phil's quite against his will. His eyes roll back in his head and this is probably the best thing that has ever happened to him. Hands tighten in Phil's jacket lapels to keep him from backing off. His cock is full and hard and nearly bursting already, and he grinds against Phil's leg shamelessly. 

 

"You're not so tough," his voice is ragged, and he moans again when Phil's thumb presses into his pulse point. "Takin' on a drunk guy, it's not even really a win." 

 

"I've got you to stop embarrassing me. That's a win." Phil says. Tony's not even trying to hide his erection. In fact he seems to be doing everything he can to make sure he knows its there. Like he wants Phil to do something about it.  
  
That thought makes Phil shiver and his hand tightens around Tony's throat. It's ridiculous. He knows Tony's type and he's not it. Boring stiffs in suits aren't Tony's thing. But he only grinds harder the rougher Phil treats him, like he wants it.  _That_ thought definitely sparks some interest and Phil can feel his own body heating up to match Tony's.

 

"Oh _god,_ " Tony's voice is thick, and his adam's apple bobs hard against Phil's palm as he swallows, and he grinds his hips forward again, closing his eyes and letting his mouth fall open. He's burning up and his suit feels way too tight, and the pressure on his throat is exquisite. He's almost in tears as he gyrates forward, trying desperately to get off. He lifts his hands from Phil's jacket to hold his arm, but he doesn't try to pull him away. He's heard of erotic asphyxiation before, but never tried it. Now that it's happening he's pretty sure he's never going to be able to get off again without a hand firmly around his throat. 

 

"So this is what Tony Stark, billionaire playboy philanthropist, gets off on?" Phil smirks. God he's actually smirking. It's kind of fun but at the same time makes him wonder how Tony managed to destroy his facade so easily.   
  
He presses his hips forward, making his own growing erection known.

 

Tony thinks he must have blacked out for a moment, because suddenly Phil's grinding back against him in the bathroom. This can't be real. He feels Phil's cock press against his own, and Tony's moan is real albeit stifled. He hears Phil say something, but it takes him a few seconds to work the words around in his head. 

 

"Yes," he moans once he realizes what Phil's accusing him of. "Yes, oh god," his hips jerk forward again and his hands tighten on his wrist and he's close to coming already. 

 

And then the door swings open. Tony's so far gone he doesn't even notice, but Phil's eyes are open and they make full-on contact with the startled blue hues of Steve Rogers. He's standing in the doorway, stock still with shock, and he can't look away. At first he thinks Tony's under attack, and he wants to help but he's frozen when a loud moan tears out of Tony's constricted throat, and his hips roll forward against agent Coulson's. They're not fighting, it looks like they're... oh god. Steve's mouth goes dry and he can't even blink as he stares at Phil through the mirror, his face lighting up twenty-five shades of red in rapid succession. 

 

And then he splutters a feeble "I'm sorry!" and darts from the doorway, the door swinging shut behind him. 

 

Phil's cheeks are suddenly on fire and for the first time in his life he doesn't know what to do. He's furious with Tony and now furious with himself for doing something so reckless. And getting  _caught,_ by Captain America no less!  
  
He starts to back off, embarrassment making him reluctant to continue. His grip on Tony's throat loosens and he takes a half step back, away from the man's grinding hips and prone body.

 

"Oh come on, don't let up," Tony groans and moves quick enough to grab Phil's lapels again. He's sure if the agent backs off now Tony will never get off again in his life. He needs Phil's hand there, around his throat, cutting off his air, taking control away from him. He could get someone else later to do the same thing, but he would always remember that one day in the bathroom when he could have had that flawless, stoic man falling apart with rage and need. "You're already hard and I highly doubt Captain Tightwad will suck your cock like I can." 

 

Phil growls, his fist tightening over Tony's windpipe again. He doesn't know why the comment gets him so angry. Tony's always annoying but having him insult Phil's hero and childhood idol is too much. He glares down at him, squeezing his throat and pressing against his groin and without thinking raises his hand and smacks Tony hard on the cheek.

 

Tony's whole world collapses in that exact moment. Pleasure rockets through him and he moans far too loudly, his eyes rolling back and he loses all control of his hips. Phil's hand left his face stinging, and his hand is so tight over his throat that he's starting to see black spots in his vision as he struggles for breath. His legs tremble and he's glad the sink is right there or he would have collapsed. Phil's weight is so sturdy and solid, holding him up, possessing him. His fingers white-knuckle on the agent's lapels, and Tony can hardly believe how close he is to coming just from being slapped in the face. 

 

That moan shoots straight through Phil, down to his cock, bringing it to full hardness seconds and making his head spin. He's too hot and he wrenches himself away from Tony to shrug off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He looks down at Tony who's reaching for him, the picture of frustrated desperation.   
  
He sneers and yanks Tony up off the sink and turns him around so he's facing the mirror before pushing him back down over the counter. He wraps his hand around Tony's throat from behind, keeping him looking up into the mirror while he grinds against his ass.  
  
"Look at yourself. About to get fucked in a bathroom by your handler." he smirks. "Is that what you want Stark?"

 

Tony struggles on principle, just to feel Phil's strength as he shoves him back down. He probably wouldn't be such a mess if he wasn't so drunk, but his motor functions weren't working properly and his inebriation assisted Phil in holding him down, even though Tony had at least fifteen pounds of muscle on him. 

 

" _Is that what you want?_ " Phil growls again, holding his throat tighter and grinding again, and Tony's eyes roll back into his head. 

 

"Yes," he moans, voice strangled. He's not sure at what point he went from wanting Phil to punch him, to wanting him to _fuck_  him. He's pretty sure he actually wanted that from the beginning. He's too drunk to remember. "You frigid bastard, show me what you're made of."

 

Phil's sneer turns into a grimace. He uses his free hand to grab Tony's hair and yank his head back. He leans forward so his lips are just inches from Tony's ear.  
  
_"Careful what you wish for Stark."_  
  
Then he releases Tony's hair, letting his head fall forward, almost hitting the mirror. His hold on Tony's throat is tight enough to leave bruises and he uses his other hand to reach around the man and tug his pants open. He pushes them and his boxers down just past his ass and then brings his hand down hard on one exposed cheek.

 

Tony’s about to cry out but it is cut off when Phil’s grip tightens again, and his eyes fly open wide. His mouth hangs open, and sweat beads across his brow, and as soon as Phil’s grip loosens a little Tony lets fly a gratifying, loud moan.

 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he grunts, his cock pulsing so hard it feels like it might burst apart right up the middle. He’s never been spanked before, he always figured that it would be a level of degradation even he wasn’t ready to sink to. But the feeling of Phil’s large, strong hand striking his bare ass makes his vision spin and his knees buckle.

 

Phil looks down at his handywork and his cock throbs. He knows Tony has a great ass. It's figured in many a magazine article, blog post, and on one memorable occasion a video montage on youtube. As the official liaison between SHIELD and the Avengers it's his job to keep an eye out on the team, including their public image. So he's seen Tony's ass. He's seen it in jeans, in suits, from behind, from the side, from above. He's seen it in wet swim trunks or his racing suit. He's read every possible description of it. So yeah, he knows Tony's ass. Just not like this.  
  
Tony's ass now is perfect. It's firm and relatively compact, with just enough fat to keep it round and soft enough to get a good grip on it. Without any fabric in the way Phil can admire the soft swell of it and the natural paleness contrasting with the reddening hand print _he_ had just left. And god it's beautiful.  
  
He smacks him again, loving the way Stark jumps and his ass turns an even deeper shade of pink.

 

“Oh my god yes,” Tony hisses, and grinds his hips forward against the sink, seeking pressure. The way his trousers have been pushed down is keeping his cock at a very uncomfortable angle, pointing straight down between his legs and pinned in place. He’s just about to start crying from the blissful discomfort.

 

His vision blacks out for a split second so he closes his eyes again and grinds back hard against Phil’s clothed cock, trying to assess its size. Phil wouldn’t be the first cock he’s taken in his life, but it’s been a while and he needs to know if he’ll have to beg for a few moments of preparation first.

 

It certainly isn’t a q-tip, that’s for sure. It feels thick between his raw ass cheeks, and even though he can’t assess length from his vantage point, he knows it’ll be a decent stretch no matter how many inches Phil has to give him. He gasps deep when Phil gives him reprieve, re-adjusting his hand on the billionaire’s throat, and his vision flecks white at the sudden rush of oxygen.

 

Phil is so hard it's painful and the way Stark keeps grinding against him is at once torture and bliss. He lets the other man rock back against him a few more times before he stills him with a warning squeeze to his throat. He knows Tony is watching him in the mirror as he brings his hand down on his exposed backside once again, making him cry out though the sound is barely audible.  
  
That's when he pulls back, not enough to completely lose contact but enough that he can get his hand between them and unbuckle his belt. Once it's off he let's go of Tony's throat to grab his hands, pulling them back behind him and looping the belt around his wrists. He pulls it tight, leaving enough give that Tony could get out if he wanted to but still tight enough that he'll get the idea. That finished he opens his own trousers and lets them and his briefs fall, finally freeing his aching cock.

 

Tony’s eyes roll back again when Phil takes hold of his throat and pulls him up from where his forehead was resting against the mirror. He feels Phil’s bare cock press between his cheeks and he wants to cry just at the sensation. It’s blissful, feeling that thick weight on his ass, and he grinds against it.

 

“Agent,” he chokes, and he’s actually having trouble breathing now that the only thing keeping him upright is the grip on his throat. Phil lets up for a moment, and the rush of oxygen sends a stab of pleasure shooting down into Tony’s belly. “Oh, _fuck me_ ,” he orders, his balls tightening just at the thought. “Condom, lube, in my coat pocket.”

 

Phil nods and starts digging in his pockets. He isn't surprised that Tony brought these things along, which is a pretty sad testimony to Tony's character. It says even worse things about Phil that he's about to fuck a man who brings these sorts of things to official functions at government agencies.  
  
He finds the condom and tears it open. He rolls it onto his cock, a little surprised that he and Tony seem to be of a similar size. Beneath him Tony has started to wiggle, clearly growing impatient, and he gives him another sharp smack to make him settle down. Phil stops then, watching Tony pant in the mirror. He's flushed and a little sweaty and he looks almost completely wrecked. It gives him a little satisfaction, knowing he can reduce Tony Stark to such a state.  
  
He finally takes pity on him and applies the lube to two of his fingers before sliding the down the crease of his ass to press against his entrance.

 

Tony instantly presses back, and he’s so eager that he penetrates himself on the two fingers, giving moan that can only be described as _slutty_. His eyes close as Phil’s fingers wrap around his raw throat again and he pushes his hips back to sink more of the fingers inside himself. When Phil pulls away at the same time he pushes back, Tony gives a pathetic sort of whimper.

 

“ _Agent_ ,” he hisses sharply, groaning as the fingers slip all the way out and circle his hole. “ _Please_.”

 

"That's not my name." Phil replies, using that deadpan he knows Tony hates. It doesn't really bother him that Tony never uses his first name. Tony almost never uses people's proper names. But it's one of those things Tony has always used to assert his superiority over Phil and he's not going to let him get away with it here.

 

“Coulson,” Tony groans, trying to push at those fingers again. Now that he’s had a taste of being filled with something, the emptiness feels almost tragic, and he’s shivering.

 

Phil smirks and rewards Tony by thrusting his fingers forward, filling the man briefly before pulling back again, leaving him empty. The protesting moan that it earns him is almost enough to make him give up the game and give Tony what he wants. But he knows better. The more he teases the better it will be in the long run.  
  
"Closer." he says. "My first name Tony. I want to hear you say it."

 

Tony grits his teeth, debating giving up his last shred of control over the situation. But he figures, Phil has spanked him, strangled, slapped him and nearly drowned him, holding onto avoiding his first name is just silly at this point.

 

“Phil, please,” his voice is weak and hoarse from his throat being pressed against so hard for so long. “ _Please_.”

 

Phil smiles and happily obliges. He presses his fingers back inside Tony, as far as they will go, before withdrawing and pressing back in again. He works fast, thrusting and scissoring and doing everything he can to loosen Tony up in the shortest amount of time possible.

 

Tony would hang his head if not for the strangle-hold on his throat, and his eyes even cross a little between the sensations of being utterly violated and robbed of proper oxygen. His breath is fogging up the mirror now, and he grinds back against the fingers inside him like a trained whore.

 

“Oh god,” he chokes out, feeling a third finger stretch him out, and it’s probably due to the alcohol that he isn’t feeling any pain, and there’s a fleeting moment of wondering how bad it’s going to hurt tomorrow, but that disappears when Phil’s fingers all work together and hit him _just right_. His knees buckle so suddenly that the fingers leave him entirely, and he comes _so close_ to coming.

 

Phil removes his hand from Tony’s neck out of mild concern, looking to see if any damage has been done, if he’s in pain. But then he realizes that Tony’s trembling, and it’s not pain that’s causing him to take a breather.

 

“Fuck me,” Tony suddenly commands, looking up into the fogged mirror, his eyes bright and manic as he makes contact with Phil’s own orbs. “Fuck me _now_.”

 

Phil smirks and spreads lube his cock in preparation. The condom is already lubed, but Tony isn't quite stretched enough and a little extra couldn’t hurt. Although he seems to have enjoyed a little pain so far. A little more shouldn't change anything.  
  
Once he's sufficiently coated he grabs Tony's hips and lifts them enough that he can align his cock with Tony's eager hole. He holds him steady with one hand, the other taking its place on Tony's neck, and pushes in.

 

Tony can’t even moan. He’s just gone. He explodes in orgasm the very instant Phil bottoms out inside him, and he can’t remember a time he’s ever felt quite so full. Previous experiences have been absolutely nothing like this, and his eyes roll back into his head, his mouth drops open, and he comes hard in his pants.

 

Trembling through his orgasm, he can’t help but feel that Phil has stilled, and that won’t do. With a desperate groan as he comes back to his senses, Tony is already grinding his hips back with a needy “ _Go_.”

 

Phil nods, his face carefully blank so as not to give away just how close he is himself. He pulls out and he can feel Tony's walls spasming around him, trying to pull him back. He thrusts forward again, filling Tony in one easy motion and groans himself. Tony's loose enough that thrusting in and out of him is easy but still tight enough that he can feel it and he's so hot and so _good._  
  
He meets Tony's eyes in the mirror and his pupils are blown wide and his jaw is slack, his cheeks flushed and he gives Phil this look. It's blissful but still just a little needy and it's all the permission Phil needs. He lets himself lose control. His hand on Tony's hip and the other on Tony's neck are both tight enough to leave bruises but that's nothing compared to the force of his thrusts as he drives himself into Tony's body.

 

Tony can’t make any noise at all, he can’t even breathe. Even if Phil’s hands hadn’t been constricting his windpipe he wouldn’t be able to breathe. He closes his eyes and gets lost in the feeling of it. He’s pretty certain his cock hasn’t even softened, because its still aching. The lubricant aids the thrusts so that each one is smooth and brilliant. His ass is feeling raw from Phil’s hips making contact with it over and over again, but even the stinging is brilliant.

 

Tony can’t believe that he’s here, like this, with _Agent Coulson’s_ cock balls-deep up his ass, but now he can’t imagine any other way this night could have possibly gone. It’s like his whole life has been building up to this moment, feeling the pulse of Coulson’s cock as its shoved deep, deep inside him at a pace that makes him want to sob.

 

And of course, all of that combined with the man’s ever-present fingers closing his windpipe at random intervals. His fingers are just big enough to wrap around his throat with his thumb firmly planted at the nape of his neck, and his larynx is so thoroughly ensconced that Tony doesn’t even _want_ to breathe.

 

He’s close to openly weeping, the pleasure rocking his core so powerfully he thinks he could write a sermon about it.

 

Phil is close. He's so fucking close. He hadn't had sex in a while and now he's fucking the most amazing ass he's ever imagined. And the little noises Tony keeps making and the way he arches his back, driving his ass onto Phil's cock and his throat into his hand is so hot it's indescribable.  
  
He just needs a little more, just that little bit more to send him over the edge.  
  
Then he sees that red hand-print on Tony's ass and he knows exactly what will give him that final push.  
  
He takes his hand off Tony's hip and brings it down onto his ass, the loud smack reverberating in the near silence on the room. Tony jerks and he tightens around Phil's cock and that's it. Phil pounds into Tony's ass as he rides out his orgasm, his fingers tightening and jaw clenching to keep from crying out.

 

Tony’s sense of time is so warped that he doesn’t even care that Phil came in less than two minutes. His whole body goes rigid as he feels the agent’s cock pulse through its orgasm, and he can only imagine what it would feel like if he hadn’t been wearing a condom – if he could feel that tide within him.

 

His head falls when Phil’s hand moves from his throat to his shoulder, and he’s panting so hard he thinks he might exhale a lung.

 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans as Phil pulls out, and his wrists are starting to really chafe in the belt. As soon as Phil frees his hands he takes hold of the edge of the sink and steadies himself at a full stand. He feels sticky and raw and altogether fucked to death, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. He looks up and makes eye contact with Phil again in the mirror, and licks his lips. “I promise to behave _sir_ ,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

 

"See that you do." Coulson says, breaking eye contact as he tosses away the used condom. He tucks in his shirt and fixes his pants before retrieving his belt and jacket. He takes a moment to fx his hair, glad that it's so short and it only takes a few quick brushes with his fingers to get it back into place.

 

Tony turns around so he’s sitting on the edge of the sink, and Phil can see his handiwork. There’s a dark red mark around Tony’s throat that’s definitely going to bruise, and a few fingerprints on his hip just the same. His coat and shirt and tie are _very_ disheveled, all out of place and askew. His trousers are down on his hips, his cock still trapped within them. His shirt is soaked with water from his still-wet hair and his face is flushed with sweat and blood. His whole body is shuddering with every ragged breath he takes, and he’s trembling right down to his fingers. He licks his lips when Phil’s eyes make their way back up to his face, and raises an eyebrow suggestively.

 

"Get yourself cleaned up Stark." Phil orders, crossing his arms. "People are going to be wondering where we are."

 

“What will you say when people ask?” Tony asks, threading a hand through his hair just slow enough to keep Phil’s gaze. “Will you tell them you were balls-deep inside me over a bathroom sink? Because that’s what _I’m_ going to tell people.”

 

Phil takes a step forward and grabs a handful of Tony's hair.  
  
"You'll say no such thing. Our story is you were drunk, you got sick. As a good handler I stayed with you until you finished puking and then gave you some water. End of story. No one is ever going to know what happened here tonight." he hisses, eyes boring into Tony's. He lets go of his hair and takes two steps back, putting a safe distance between them, "Now get dressed."

 

Tony’s forgotten how to breathe again for just a moment, and he thinks that’s real fear that’s gripping him. Coulson survived being stabbed through the lung, he’s a very dangerous man, and Tony usually takes his gentle professionalism for granted. There’s no doubt in his mind that Phil could have snapped his neck _easy_ while fucking him.

 

His heart is pounding and he swallows as he watches Phil re-adjust his tie, but he carefully hides his racing pulse and chilling fear.

 

“When can I see you again?” he asks, his tone over-dramatized on purpose as he pulls his trousers up, ignoring the sticky feeling in his boxers.

 

"Let's just get through tonight Stark." Phil sighs. He moves closer and roughly smoothes Tony's shirt and adjusts his tie. He gave him one last once over before pronouncing him suitable.

 

Tony swats Phil’s bottom as he walks away, and stays at the sink for a few more seconds after he’s gone. Yeah, he’s definitely going to make sure that happens again, or his name isn’t Tony Stark.

 

With a smirk, he finishes adjusting himself in the mirror, stuffs a tissue down into his underwear to keep his cock from sticking to the cloth as his come dries. He fixes his hair and swaggers out of the room, ready to re-enter the party and find Coulson so he can ask him not to tell people that he was throwing up. Because Tony Stark _did not_ throw up after drinking.

 

The bathroom is quiet for a moment as the door swings shut behind Tony. Then, once the coast is clear, the far right stall door opens.  
  
"Holy fuck." Clint laughs, tucking himself back into his jeans as he approaches the sink. His face is red and his hair disheveled and there's come drying on his hands. His broken ribs ache but the rest of him is buzzing with post-orgasmic bliss. He can't remember the last time masturbating had been so satisfying.  
  
He turns on the sink and washes his hands before splashing a little water on his face. That was by far the sexiest thing he has ever seen and by god he's going to make sure it happens again.

 

Preferably with him as an active participant.


End file.
